


Scenes From a Life (Together)

by Lillies_roses



Category: Hollyoaks
Genre: M/M, Missing Scenes, Still in denial over here, come join me!, it's great
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:53:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24249850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lillies_roses/pseuds/Lillies_roses
Summary: A little while ago, I got some lovely requests on my writing.  Now that I've got a bit of time, I thought I might have a go at some of them.So, here are some little separate scenes.  Some might be missing scenes, some might be reimaginings.  Don't really know where I'm going, let's see!  Hope you enjoy :)
Relationships: James Nightingale/Harry Thompson
Comments: 23
Kudos: 55





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set after James and Harry reunite in the Hutch. Harry is curious about Romeo's appearance in their life, and James manages to open up to him. *Warning* This discusses James' encounter with Donna Marie, which was non-consensual. It was rape.

Harry held his hand as they walked home. They had never done that before. James’ palms were sweating, far more than when he had entered the Hutch just twenty minutes earlier, but he held tight. He imagined people watching them, eyes tracking as they made their way from the restaurant to the flat. Their flat. He’d said it, in public no less, and everyone knew. That he loved, just like all of them. And now he held Harry’s hand in his, and Harry smiled as he squeezed it reassuringly. Maybe everyone could see that  _ he _ loved James as well? Perhaps this was a new start.

Romeo placed a hand on his shoulder and told them he was going to meet a friend. His lips twisted up in a smirk and he actually winked at his dad, which made Harry laugh. They both laughed, in fact, and James found that he was laughing too. He warned Romeo not to be home too late and, as they watched the boy retreat, Harry said “House to ourselves, eh?” and reached up to kiss him again, in the middle of the village for all to see.

Once through the door, they didn’t make it to the bedroom. In no time James felt the familiar press of the sofa cushions against his back, Harry’s knees pushing into his hips and his thumbs stroking across the jutting bones of his clavicles. Harry had leant down and kissed him, open mouthed, and James’ kept his eyes open too as he came. Harry’s forehead dropped onto his chest, heavy breath tickling his hot skin. “God, I missed you.” He whispered, and James felt the words vibrate through his ribs. He kept his hands firmly on Harry’s back, fingers spread and thumbs rubbing over his spine.

After a while, Harry pulled himself from James’ embrace and stood up. James watched as he padded across the room and into the kitchen, naked body disappearing behind the counter. He rolled his head back and closed his eyes, rubbing his hands over his face. The whole room smelt of Harry and him. He heard the click of the fridge door opening, and without looking said, “Surely you’re not still hungry. You just had lunch.” Harry laughed and his own lips immediately responded, twitching upwards. It was so good to hear that laugh.

“Yeah, but I didn’t get dessert, did I?” Harry replied as he made his way back to James. “Budge up.” He added, and James lifted his legs to allow Harry to slip beneath them, stretching out again so that his feet dangled over the arm of the sofa. Harry attempted to balance a little individual cheesecake on his calves, the glass ramekin cold against his skin. “Some hot shot lawyer showed up before I could order, remember? Made a pretty good case why I should cut it short.” Harry scooped up the smooth topping with a teaspoon, and continued with a small smirk. “Actually, his son did a lot of the convincing. Which, by the way, I need more of an explanation on.” James shifted slightly, as Harry chuckled and carried on through a mouthful. “Like, how did that happen? Teenage experimentation?”

“Something like that.” James muttered, hoping Harry would drop his enquiries.

“It’s pretty unbelievable! Can’t imagine you even...” Harry’s words trailed off, as James swung his legs off his lap, stood up and walked abruptly from the room.

James entered his bedroom, closing the door quietly behind him. Harry was lying on the bed, propped up against pillows and wearing a pair of James’ old grey pajama bottoms. His eyes darted up from his phone at the sound, and seemed to search James’ face for something. “Where did you go?” He asked hesitantly.

James attempted a smile, as he dropped the towel from his waist and pulled on his favourite robe. “Shower. We worked up quite a sweat there, after all.” Harry frowned and bit his lip. He glanced down at his hands again, fiddling with the case of his phone.

“I thought… Did I do something wrong?” His voice was quiet, and James felt his stomach contract.

“No.” He sighed. He took a tentative seat at the foot of the bed. “No, I just… I’ve found it difficult to discuss that topic.”

“What, Romeo?”

James nodded. “And the particulars of how he…  _ came about _ .” Harry sat up, crossing his legs and shuffling towards James. He reached out and took his hand.

“You can talk to me.”

James nodded again, and closed his eyes. “It’s not… nice.” He began. “It’s not something that I particularly want to remember.” He took a deep breath before opening his eyes, and simply said, “Mac.”

Harry’s gaze was steady. He laced their fingers together, and traced small circles around James’ palm with his thumbnail, but he didn’t say anything. James licked his lips and, attempting as much composure as he could, continued. “It was on my 16th birthday. Mac, he paid someone to come to the house. Romeo’s mother.”

“Shit.” Harry murmured.

“I suppose he hoped it might cure me of certain proclivities.” James closed his eyes again, pushing on. “I didn’t want to do it, but I couldn’t say no. Not with Mac standing there, that smile on his face. I didn’t know what to do, I just… I just lay there and let her…” He spat the words out, and tried not to recall the way her small, rough hands felt; the smell of cigarettes and spearmint on her breath. “I felt sick, I hated every second of it. It didn’t feel good, but my body reacted anyway and I... I felt so  _ disgusted _ . So pathetically weak.” James could feel hot tears pool behind his eyelids and he ground his teeth together, his jaw twitching from the strain. 

“James.” Harry’s voice was soft, and James felt a warm palm against his cheek. He opened his eyes. Harry wiped the tears as they fell. “I’m so, so sorry.”

James tried to smile, but the skin of his face felt too tight. “You know how I hate pity.”

“It’s not…” Harry shook his head, his voice trembling slightly. “God, I wanna kill him!”

“Please don’t.” James replied, “I don’t want you behind bars again.” Harry let out a sharp breath through his nose, almost a laugh, and James added, “It’s not the worst that he did.”

Harry was silent for a moment, a small furrow on his brow. “James,” He said carefully, “You didn’t wanna do it. They knew you didn’t want to. That’s rape...”

“Don’t.” James said sharply. “I am not a victim. I am not  _ his _ victim.” He fixed his eyes on the lamp that stood to the left of Harry. He didn’t want to look at him. Didn’t want to see a change behind his blue eyes now that he knew. Harry was right, of course he was. Had someone else told this story to him, he’d have known exactly which laws to cite. But that wouldn’t be him. He wouldn’t give Mac the satisfaction.

“Okay.” Harry whispered after a moment. “But if you change your mind, you know... I’m here. I’m gonna be here. Always.” James nodded slowly. Harry inched his foot forwards, wiggling his big toe until it touched gently against the side of James’ knee. It was cold. Harry’s toes were always cold, he always had to borrow an extra pair of socks from James’ draw. James looked at him. “I’m really proud of you.” Harry said. “You know, putting Romeo first like you have. Can’t always be easy.”

“It’s not his fault.” James murmured, “And I don’t want him knowing the details of his conception. He’s had enough to deal with already.”

“Yeah, I get it.” Harry leaned forwards, taking James’ face between his hands, and kissed him softly. “Thank you. For telling me.” He paused, his expression almost shy. “For trusting me.”

“Well, it’s a new start.” James tried to smile once again, and found that it came a little more easily. He rested his forehead against Harry’s, and the blue of his  irises was all he could see . “For all of us.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am still writing, slowly but surely. The real world is certainly distracting right now, huh?
> 
> This chapter is set soon after the previous one. It's for lovely Rani, who is aways so kind and supportive :)

The sun hit the back of Harry’s neck, pleasantly warm on his skin. It was unusually mild for a late January morning and in the back of his mind he knew that he should probably be worrying about global warming, but today he couldn’t find it in himself to worry about much at all. As he made his way towards the Hutch, Harry looked over his shoulder one more time to watch James disappear into Price Slice, crisp shirt and smart coat despite having taken the morning off work. He glanced down to the pavement, unable to stop a smile spread unbidden across his face. James hadn’t actually been into the office in days, opting to work from home since Harry had returned with his boxes earlier that week. If you could call it working. For someone so dedicated to his job, James was surprisingly easy to distract. Harry felt the prickle of heat rise in his cheeks, and tried again to gain control of his grin. No chance of that. He had forgotten what it felt like, to just be in love. No one else clamouring for his attention, no anxieties turning his mind inside out. No need to hide those parts of himself that had felt so shameful just months before. He was simply in love. Loved. It felt good.

As he neared the restaurant, Harry glanced up and saw _him_ standing just across the street. He had his back to Harry, white hair reflecting the beams of sunlight and fingers clutching at the black cane by his side. Harry felt the hairs on his arms rise, the smile falling from his face. Before he could properly consider what he was doing he strode towards him, his mouth opening in exclamation.

“Oi!”

Mac turned to face him, crocodile smile pulling the edges of his thin lips. “Hello, Harry. And what can I do for _you_.” The words dripped from his mouth like poison, his face twisting as he looked him up and down. Anger bubbled in Harry’s chest, and as he reached Mac he jabbed his index finger hard into his chest.

“Think you’re big do you? Beating up a kid? Forcing a teenager to…” Harry couldn’t bring himself to finish that sentence. “You think that makes you look strong?”

Mac laughed, his narrow eyes lighting up. “Is that a backbone I see, Harry? And here, I thought my _son_ fought all your battles for you.”

“You’re sick.” Harry’s voice was shaking as much as his finger, still pressed against Mac’s chest, but he didn’t stop. “James is…”

“James is a worm.” Mac interrupted. His face contorted, though his tone was even, and the shadow of hatred fell across his features. Harry could barely stand to look at him, as he used his free hand to bat Harry’s away. “A pathetic little worm, so what does that make you? Hiding behind that sniveling excuse for a man.”

Harry had long known what Mac had done to James, heard the stories of how he had belittled and tormented him for years. But he had never heard the words actually come from his mouth. Never seen the malice behind his eyes. Harry had been called awful things by his own father, words that still returned to him when he was at his lowest, but _he_ hadn’t meant them. It had been in the heat of an argument, a moment of madness. Mac _meant_ this. He meant the hatred, meant the pain. Harry could see it and it broke his heart, but he wouldn’t back down. As Mac wrapped his long fingers around the collar of Harry’s t-shirt, he stared back defiantly. Let him try it.

“Harry!” The voice that called his name, while tense and tight, instantly cooled his blood. Shrugging out of Mac's grip, Harry turned to see James standing just paces away, squeezing a newspaper between his hands. That and the small crease on his brow were the only outward signs of his concern. “Harry, don’t…” He murmured again. Harry bit down on his lip, and looked back at the sneering man in front of him. Then he turned to walk away.

James didn’t move, but his voice was stronger now. “Mac.” He spat, “If you ever lay a finger on my boyfriend again, you _will_ regret it.”

“Boyfriend?” Mac chuckled coldly, “Is that what you think this freak show is? And here, I thought he was your whore.”

Harry wasn’t yet far enough away. His fingers curled, nails digging into his palm, and as he swung back around his fist connected with Mac’s jaw. The sound it made was louder that Harry had expected, sharp and wet. He hadn’t hit anybody in a long time. His hand immediately thumped as the blood rushed to it, and he blinked back the tears that had sprung to his eyes. But Mac simply turned back to him, red oozing slowly from the edge of his mouth, and smiled. Harry’s fingers, sore as they were, clenched again.

“Come, Harry.” James was beside him now and, taking hold of his arm, he led him towards the restaurant. Harry let himself be pulled along, his whole body trembling as they squeezed through the doorway together. He drew in a long breath as he perched on one of the tall stools by the counter, rubbing his throbbing hand. “I’m not scared of him.” He said sharply. Darren gave them a curious look from behind the bar and Harry ran his hands over his face, trying to regain some semblance of control over his emotions. “Soy latte and a flat white please, mate.” He said, his voice more level now. James simply stood beside him, his whole body stiff.

“You should be.” He said quietly, as Darren turned to make their drinks. “You don’t know him like I do. You don’t know what he’s capable of.”

“I’ve got a pretty good idea, James.” Harry shot back, adrenaline still pumping through him. Why had James pulled him away, let Mac get away with saying those things about him, about _them_? He had wanted to make him pay, even just a little bit, for everything he had done. “He can’t get away with it.” He muttered.

“Maybe not, but _I_ can’t lose you.” James’ voice wavered slightly, and Harry turned to meet his gaze. There was something new shining from his green eyes. “I’ve tried to get over you before, Harry. It’s never really worked out for me.” All the anger fled from Harry’s body then. He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry.

“Yeah… I know.” Harry leant forward, half hanging from his stool as he wrapped his arms around James. “I know.” He repeated softly into his neck, closing his eyes tightly. James’ palms came to his back, pressing gently, briefly against it. When they drew away, he offered a small smile. Then he cleared his throat and glanced around the room self consciously. This was still new to James, them being together in public, being _this_ kind of couple. Harry didn’t mind. He knew what these moments meant to him.

Darren returned, placing steaming cups of light brown coffee before them. James thanked him awkwardly and lifted his mug to his lips. Harry stared at his drink, thoughts unable to move past his confrontation with Mac.

“He’s not gonna get away with it." He murmured, "We’ll do something, build up a case against him or something.” All the times that James had rescued him, this was the least he could do. He _needed_ to do it. Harry had only been able to exorcise his own demons with James by his side. He had to reciprocate, had to prove that he was strong enough to hold James up too. “I wanna help you get justice for what he did.”

James looked unconvinced, but he nodded anyway and placed his hand over Harry’s, where it lay on the countertop. He squeezed it. “Okay.” He whispered, “Okay, we can try.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short scene, taking place after the family day in bed (aired 16th July 2019).

Harry’s head felt heavy. He was vaguely aware of the green and yellow streaks that danced on the black canvas of his eyelids. There was a wet patch on the sheet beneath his back, growing slowly colder and more crisp, and something itched at his side but he did nothing. His limbs too were heavy, sinking down into the spongy mattress below him. An arm thrown across his eyes, he savoured this brief sojourn at the edges of sleep. One of his feet hooked around James’ ankle, hot skin still slick with sweat, the smallest contact to ground him. He felt James shift, a hand slipping across Harry’s sticky stomach as it steadily rose and fell, and round to rest on his hip bone. Suddenly James exclaimed loudly, jerking Harry out of drowsy tranquility. “Oh for god’s sake!” James muttered, pulling a handful of popcorn from beside Harry’s naked body. He sat up, shaking his head in exasperation, and threw it once again from the bed with a sigh. “Those children. Did you not notice it there?” 

“Nah, but I’m pretty out of it right now.” Harry smiled, and his voice creaked with sleep. He turned onto his side, pushing his hand against James’ shoulder as he lay back down, and settled closer into his chest. He felt lips press the side of his head, warm breath making his scalp tingle once again.

“I’m sorry that our day in bed was commandeered by my family.” James whispered into his hair.

“S’alright. You more than made up for it.” Harry kissed James’ chest, the pale skin beneath dark hairs. A few were lighter now, coarser, and Harry couldn’t help but regret once again all that time they had wasted. “Anyway, you don’t have to apologise for them. They’re kinda… I mean, they’re my family too.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. I know we don’t have the same surname yet but that’s not all it’s about, is it?”

“Right…” Harry felt James stiffen slightly under him. “Is that what you want?” James was careful, slow with his words. He didn’t look at Harry. The air between them felt suddenly taut. After a moment he added, “The surname.”

“That’s not what… I wasn’t trying to get at that.” Harry sat up and the duvet fell to his waist. He frowned. James’ face was guarded, and Harry wanted to reach out and smooth the creases from his forehead. It had been a throwaway comment, he hadn’t meant to ruin this, these rare hours together in domestic bliss.

“Because I never really pictured myself getting married, Harry.” James continued, his voice still so quiet, so measured, “And after John-Paul....”

“Really, it’s fine, James.”

“I love you.” He said fimly, eyes not meeting Harry’s, “I just, I know that with Ste…”

“James.” Harry interrupted softly, reaching out to place a hand on his cheek. James’ eyes widened briefly at the touch, and he paused. “Me and Ste were engaged when I was like a teenager. Who gets married that young these days?” James’ lips twitched as though to smile, but his brow remained knitted together. Harry continued. “I think I needed it then. To show that we could get through everything, you know? That we were strong enough or whatever. I’m not worried about _us_ .” James' gaze darted up to finally meet his again. He licked his lips, and his chin twitched in the smallest of nods. “We could get married next week, or in ten years. It doesn’t matter. I _know_ we’re going to make it. Don’t need a ring or a party to prove that. I just know.”

James did smile then. “You’re that sure about me?”

“After everything we’ve been through together? Yeah, I'd say I’m pretty sure.” Harry gently pressed his lips to James’ and lay back against his chest. He closed his eyes, letting the sound of James’ steady heartbeat lull him again.

“One day.” James whispered after some time, brushing his fingers lightly across Harry’s shoulder. His skin prickled, he felt it long after the touch had gone. He smiled, but didn’t open his eyes.

“I’ll hold you to that.”


End file.
